Chapter IV: Part 4

_Clow._ Knight, if you be a Knight, so keep you; as for the
Lady, who shall say that she is not a fair Lady, a sweet Lady,
an honest and a virtuous Lady, I will say he is a base fellow,
a blab of his tongue, and I will make him eat these fingers
ends.

_Sir Greg._ Why, here's no body says so _Pompey_.

_Clow._ Whatsoever things have past between the Lady and the
other party, whom I will not name at this time, I say she is
virtuous and honest, and I will maintain it, as long as I can
maintain my self with bread and water.

_Sir Greg._ Why I know no body thinks otherwise.

_Clow._ Any man that does but think it in my hearing, I will
make him think on't while he has a thought in his bosom; shall
we say that kindnesses from Ladies are common? or that favours
and protestations are things of no moment betwixt parties and
parties? I say still, whatsoever has been betwixt the Lady and
the party, which I will not name, that she is honest, and shall
be honest, whatsoever she does by day or by night, by light or
by darkness, with cut and long tail.

_Sir Greg._ Why I say she is honest.

_Clow._ Is she honest? in what sense do you say she is honest,
Knight?

_Sir Greg._ If I could not find in my heart to throw my dagger
at thy head, hilts and all, I'm an ass, and no Gentleman.

_Clow._ Throw your Dagger at me! do not Knight, I give you
fair warning, 'tis but cast away if you do, for you shall have
no other words of me, the Lady is an honest Lady, whatsoever
reports may go of sports and toys, and thoughts, and words, and
deeds, betwixt her and the party which I will not name; this
I give you to understand, That another man may have as good
an eye, as amorous a nose, as fair a stampt beard, and be as
proper a man as a Knight, (I name no parties) a Servingman may
be as good as a Sir, a _Pompey_ as a _Gregory_, a _Doodle_ as a
_Fop_; so Servingman _Pompey Doodle_, may be respected as well
with Ladies (though I name no parties) as _Sir Gregory Fop_; so
farewell: [_Exit._

_Sir Greg._ If the fellow be not out of his wits, then will I
never have any more wit while I live; either the sight of the
Lady has gaster'd him, or else he's drunk, or else he walks in
his sleep, or else [he]'s a fool, or a knave, or both, one of
the three, I'm sure 'tis; yet now I think on't, she has not
us'd me so kindly as her Uncle promis'd me she should, but
that's all one, he says I shall have her, and I dare take his
word for the best [h]orse I have, and that's a weightier thing
than a Lady, I'm sure on't. [_Exit._

_Enter Lady_ Ruinous (_as a man_) Witty-Pate, Sir Ruinous,
Priscian, _and Master_ Credulous (_binding and robbing her,_
_and in Scarfs_) Credulous _finds the bag_.

_Lady Ruin._ Nay, I am your own, 'tis in your pleasure
How you'll deal with me; yet I would intreat,
You will not make that which is bad enough,
Worse than it need be, by a second ill,
When it can render you no second profit;
If it be coin you seek, you have your prey,
All my store I vow, (and it weighs a hundred)
My life, or any hurt you give my body,
Can inrich you no more.

_Witty._ You may pursue.

_L. Ruin._ As I am a Gentleman; I never will,
Only we'll bind you to quiet behaviour
Till you call out for Bail, and on th' other
Side of the hedge leave you; but keep the peace
Till we be out of hearing, for by that
We shall be out of danger, if we come back,
We come with a mischief.

_Lady._ You need not fear me.

_Prisc._ Come, we'll bestow you then. [_Exit_ Ruin. Prisc. _and Lady_.

_Wit._ Why law you Sir, is not this a swifter Revenue
than, _Sic probas, ergo's & igitur's_ can bring in? why is not this
one of your Syllogismes in _Barbara_? _Omne utile est honestum._

_Cred._ Well Sir, a little more of this acquaintance
Will make me know you fully, I protest.
You have (at first sight) made me conscious
Of such a deed my dreams ne'er prompted, yet
I could almost have wish'd rather ye'ad rob'd me
Of my Cloak, (for my Purse 'tis a Scholars)
Than to have made me a robber.
I had rather have answered three difficult questions,
Than this one, as easie, as yet it seems.

_Witty._ Tush, you shall never come to farther answer for't;
Can you confess your penurious Uncle,
In his full face of love, to be so strict
A Nigard to your Commons, that you are fain
To size your belly out with Shoulder Fees?
With Rumps and Kidneys, and Cues of single Beer,
And yet make _Daymy_ to feed more daintily,
At this easier rate? fie Master _Credulous_,
I blush for you.

_Cred._ This is a truth undeniable.

_Wit._ Why go to then, I hope I know your Uncle,
How does he use his Son, nearer than you?

_Cred._ Faith, like his Jade, upon the bare Commons,
Turn'd out to pick his living as he can get it;
He would have been glad to have shar'd in such
A purchase, and thank'd his good fortune too.

_Enter_ Ruinous _and_ Priscian.

But mum no more--is all safe, Bullies?

_Ruin._ Secure, the Gentleman thinks him most happy in his loss,
With his safe life and limbs, and redoubles
His first vow, as he is a Gentleman,
Never to pursue us.

_Wit._ Well away then,
Disperse you with Master _Credulous_, who still
Shall bear the purchase, _Priscian_ and I,
Will take some other course: You know our meeting
At the _Three Cups_ in _St Gile's_, with this _proviso_,
(For 'tis a Law with us) that nothing be open'd
Till all be present, the looser saies a hundred,
And it can weigh no less.

_Ruin._ Come, Sir, we'll be your guide.

_Cred._ My honesty, which till now was never forfeited,
All shall be close till our meeting. [_Exit_ Cred. _and_ Ruin.

_Witty._ Tush, I believ't.
And then all shall out; where's the thief that's robb'd?

_Enter Lady_ Ruinous.

_L. Rui._ Here Master _Oldcraft_, all follows now.

_Witty._ 'Twas neatly done, wench, now to turn that bag
Of counterfeits to current pieces, & _actum est_.

_L. Rui._ You are the _Chymist_, we'll blow the fire still,
If you can mingle the ingredients.

_Witty._ I will not miss a cause, a quantity, a dram,
You know the place.

_Pris._ I have told her that, Sir.

_Witty._ Good, turn _Ruinous_ to be a Constable, I'm sure
We want not beards of all sorts, from the
Worshipful Magistrate to the under Watchman;
Because we must have no danger of life,
But a cleanly cheat, attach _Credulous_,
The cause is plain, the theft found about him;
Then fall I in his own Cosins shape
By mere accident, where finding him distrest,
I with some difficulty must fetch him off,
With promise that his Uncle shall shut up all
With double restitution: Master Constable, _Ruinous_
His mouth shall be stopt; you, Mistriss rob-thief,
Shall have your share of what we can gull my Father of;
Is't plain enough?

_L. Rui._ As plain a cozenage as can be, faith.

_Witty._ Father, I come again, and again when this is
Past too, Father, one will beget another;
I'd be loath to leave your posterity barren,
You were best [to] come to composition Father,
Two hundred pieces yearly allow me yet,
It will [be] cheaper (Father) than my wit,
For I will cheat none but you, dear Father. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Old Knight, _and_ Sir Gregory.

_Old K._ Why now you take the course Sir _Gregory Fop_:
I could enforce her, and I list, but love
That's gently won, is a man's own for ever,
Have you prepar'd good Musick?

_Sir Gr._ As fine a noise, Uncle, as heart can wish.

_O[l]d K._ Why that's done like a Suitor,
They must be woo'd a hundred several ways,
Before you obtain the right way in a woman,
'Tis an odd creature, full of creeks and windings.
The Serpent has not more; for sh'as all his,
And then her own beside came in by her mother.

_Sir Gr._ A fearful portion for a man to venture on.

_Old K._ But the way found once by the wits of men,
There is no creature lies so tame agen.

_Sir Gr._ I promise you, not a house-Rabbit, Sir.

_Old K._ No sucker on 'em all.

_Sir Gr._ What a thing's that?
They're pretty fools I warrant, when they'r tame
As a man can lay his lips [to].

_Old K._ How were you bred, Sir?
Did you never make a fool of a Tenants daughter?

_Sir Gr._ Never i'faith, they ha' made some fools for me,
And brought 'em many a time under their aprons.

_Old [K]_ They could not shew you the way plainlier, I think,
To make a fool again.

_Sir Gr._ There's fools enough, Sir,
'Less they were wiser.

_Old K._ This is wondrous rare,
Come you to _London_ with a Maiden-head, Knight?
A Gentleman of your rank ride with a Cloak-bag?
Never an Hostess by the way to leave it with?
Nor Tapsters Sister? nor head-Ostlers Wife?
What no body?

_Sir Gr._ Well mock'd old Wit-monger,
I keep it for your Neece.

_Old K._ Do not say so for shame, she'll laugh at thee,
A wife ne'er looks for't, 'tis a batchelors penny,
He may giv't to a begger-wench, i'th' progress time,
And ne'er be call'd to account for't. [_Ex._

_Sir Gr._ Would I had known so much,
I could ha' stopt a beggers mouth by th' way.

_Enter Page and Fidlers boy_.

That rail'd upon me, 'cause I'd give her nothing--
What, are they come?

_Pag._ And plac'd directly, Sir,
Under her window.

_Sir Gr._ What may I call you, Gentleman?

_Boy._ A poor servant to the Viol, I'm the Voice, Sir.

_Sir Gr._ In good time Master _Voice_?

_Boy._ Indeed good time does get the mastery.

_Sir Gr._ What Countreyman, Master _Voice_.

_Boy._ Sir, born at _Ely_, we all set up in _El[y,]_
But our house commonly breaks in _Rutland-shire_.

_Sir Gr._ A shrewd place by my faith, it may well break your voice,
It breaks many a mans back; come, set to your business.

SONG.

_Fain would I wake you, Sweet, but fear_
_I should invite you to worse chear;_
_In your dreams you cannot fare_
_Meaner than Musick; no compare;_
_None of your slumbers are compil'd_
_Under the pleasure makes a Child;_
_Your day-delights, so well compact,_
_That what you think, turns all to act:_
_I'd wish my life no better play,_
_Your dream by night, your thought by day._
_Wake gently, wake,_
_Part softly from your dreams;_
_The morning flies_
_To your fair eyes,_
_To take her special beams._

_Sir Gr._ I hear her up, here Master _Voice_,
Pay you the Instruments, save what you can,

_Enter Neece above._

To keep you when you're crackt. [_Exit Boy._

_Neece._ Who should this be?
That I'm so much beholding to, for sweetness?
Pray Heaven it happens right.

_Sir Gr._ Good morrow, Mistriss.

_Neece._ An ill day and a thousand come upon thee.

_Sir Gr._ 'Light, that's six hundred more than any
Almanack has.

_Neece._ Comes it from thee? it is the mangiest Musick
That ever woman heard.

_Sir Gr._ Nay, say not so, Lady,
There's not an itch about 'em.

_Neece._ I could curse
My attentive powers, for giving entrance to't;
There is no boldness like the impudence
That's lockt in a fools bloud, how durst you do this?
In conscience I abus'd you as sufficiently
As woman could a man; insatiate Coxcomb,
The mocks and spiteful language I have given thee,
Would o' my life ha' serv'd ten reasonable men,
And rise contented too, and left enough for their friends.
Thou glutton at abuses, never satisfied?
I am perswaded thou devour'st more flouts
Than all thy body's worth, and still a hungred!
A mischief of that maw, prethee seek elsewhere,
Introth I am weary of abusing thee;
Get thee a fresh Mistriss, thou'st make work enough;
I do not think there's scorn enough in Town
To serve thy turn, take the Court-Ladies in,
And all their Women to 'em, that exceed 'em.

_Sir Gr._ Is this in earnest, Lady?

_Neece._ Oh unsatiable!
Dost thou count all this but an earnest yet?
I'd thought I'd paid thee all the whole sum, trust me;
Thou'lt begger my derision utterly
If thou stay'st longer, I shall want a laugh:
If I knew where to borrow a contempt
Would hold thee tack, stay and be hang'd, thou shouldst then:
But thou'st no conscience now to extort hate from me,
When one has spent all she can make upon thee;
Must I begin to pay thee hire again?
After I have rid thee twice? faith 'tis unreasonable.

_Sir Gr._ Say you so? I'll know that presently. [_Exit._

_Neece._ Now he runs
To fetch my Uncle to this musty bargain,
But I have better ware always at hand.
And lay by this still, when he comes to cheapen.

_Enter_ Cuningam.

_Cun._ I met the Musick now, yet cannot learn
What entertainment he receiv'd from her.

_Nee._ There's some body set already, I must to't, I see,
Well, well, Sir _Gregory_?

_Cun._ Hah, _Sir Gregory_?

_Nee._ Where e'er you come, you may well boast your conquest.

_Cun._ She's lost y'faith, enough, has fortune then
Remembred her great boy? she seldom fails 'em.

_Nee._ H' was the unlikeliest man at first, methought,
To have my love, we never met but wrangled.

_Cun._ A pox upon that wrangling, say I still,
I never knew it fail yet, where e'er't came;
It never comes but like a storm of hail,
'Tis sure to bring fine weather at the tail on't,
There's not one match 'mongst twenty made without it,
It fights i' th' tongue, but sure to agree i' th' haunches.

_Nee._ That man that should ha' told me when time was.
I should ha' had him, had been laught at piteously,
But see how things will change!

_Cun._ Here's a heart feels it--Oh the deceitful promises of love!
What trust should a man put i' th' lip of woman?
She kist me with that strength, as if sh'ad meant
To ha' set the fair print of her soul upon me.

_Nee._ I would ha' sworn 'twould ne'er ha been a match once.

_Cun._ I'll hear no more, I'm mad to hear so much,
Why should I aim my thoughts at better fortunes
Than younger brothers have? that's a Maid with nothing,
Or some old Soap-boilers Widow, without Teeth,
There waits my fortune for me, seek no farther. [_Ex._ Cun.

_Enter_ Old Knight, _and_ Sir Gregory.

_Old K._ You tell me things, _Sir Gregory_, that cannot be.
She will not, nor she dares not.

_Sir Gr._ Would I were whipt then.

_Nee._ I'll make as little shew of love, _Sir Gregory_,
As ever Woman did, you shall not know
You have my heart a good while.

_Old K._ Heard you that?

_Nee._ Man will insult so soon, 'tis his condition,
'Tis good to keep him off as long as we can,
I've much ado, I swear; and love i' th' end
Will have his course, let Maids do what they can,
They are but frail things till they end in man.

_Old K._ What say you to this, Sir?

_Sir Gr._ This is somewhat handsome.

_Nee._ And by that little wrangling that I fain'd,
Now I shall try how constant his love is,
Although't went sore against my heart to chide him.

_Sir Gr._ Alas poor Gentlewoman.

_Old K._ Now y'are sure of truth,
You hear her own thoughts speak.

_Sir Gr._ They speak indeed.

_Old K._ Go, you're a brainless Coax; a Toy, a Fop,
I'll go no farther than your name, _Sir Gr[egory]_
I'll right my self there; were you from this place,
You should perceive I'm heartily angry with you,
Offer to sow strife 'twixt my Neece and I?
Good morrow Neece, good morrow.

_Nee._ Many fair ones to you, Sir.

_Old K._ Go, you're a Coxcomb. How dost Neece this morning?
An idle shallow fool: sleep'st thou well, Girl?
Fortune may very well provide thee Lordships,
For honesty has left thee little manners.

_Sir Gr._ How am I bang'd o'both sides!

_Old K._ Abuse kindnesse? Will't take the air to day Neece?

_Nee._ When you please, Sir,
There stands the Heir behind you I must take,
(Which I'd as lieve take, as take him I swear.)

_Old K._ La' you; do you hear't continued to your teeth now?
A pox of all such _Gregories_; what a hand

[_Neece lets fall her Scarfe._

Have I with you!

_Sir Gr._ No more y'feck, I ha' done, Sir:
Lady, your Scarf's fal'n down.

_Nee._ 'Tis but your luck, Sir,
And does presage the Mistriss must fall shortly,
You may wear it, and you please.

_Old K._ There's a trick for you,
You're parlously belov'd, you should complain.

_Sir Gr._ Yes, when I complain, Sir,
Then do your worst, there I'll deceive you, Sir.

_Old K._ You are a Dolt, and so I leave you, Sir. [_Exit._

_Sir Gr._ Ah sirrah, Mistriss were you caught, i'faith?
We overheard you all; I must not know
I have your heart, take heed o' that, I pray,
I knew some Scarf would come.

_Nee._ He's quite gone, sure:
Ah you base Coxcomb, couldst thou come again?
And so abus'd as thou wast?

_Sir Gr._ How?

_Nee._ 'Twould ha' kill'd
A sensible man, he would ha' gone to his chamber,
And broke his heart by this time.

_Sir Gr._ Thank you heartily.

_Nee._ Or fixt a naked Rapier in a Wall,
Like him that earn'd his Knighthood, e'r he had it,
And then refus'd upon't, ran up to th' hilts.

_Sir Gr._ Yes, let him run for me, I was never brought up to't,
I never profest running i' my life.

_Nee._ What art thou made on? thou tough villanous vermin.
Will nothing destroy thee?

_Sir Gr._ Yes, yes, assure your self
Unkind words may do much.

_Nee._ Why, dost thou want 'em?
I've e'en consum'd my spleen to help thee to 'em:
Tell me what sort of words they be would speed thee?
I'll see what I can do yet.

_Sir Gr._ I'm much beholding to you,
You're willing to bestow huge pains upon me.

_Nee._ I should account nothing too much to rid thee.

_Sir Gr._ I wonder you'd not offer to destroy me,
All the while your Uncle was here.

_Neece._ Why there thou betray'st thy house; we of the _Old-Crafts_
Were born to more wit than so.

_Sir Greg._ I wear your favor here.

_Neece._ Would it might rot thy arme off: if thou knewst
With what contempt thou hast it, what hearts bitterness,
How many cunning curses came along with it,
Thoud'st quake to handle it.

_Sir Greg._ A pox, tak't again then;
Who'd be thus plagu'd of all hands?

_Neece._ No, wear't still,
But long I hope thou shalt not, 'tis but cast
Upon thee, purposely to serve another
That has more right to't, as in some Countries they convey
Their treasure upon Asses to their friends;
If mine be but so wise, and apprehensive,
As my opinion gives him to my heart,
It stayes not long on thy desertless arme;
I'll make thee e'er I ha' done, not dare to wear
Any thing of mine, although I give't thee freely;
Kiss it you may, and make what shew you can,
But sure you carry't to a worthier Man,
And so good morrow to you. [_Exit._

_Sir Greg._ Hu hum, ha hum;
I han't the spirit now to dash my brains out,
Nor the audacity to kill my self,
But I could cry my heart out, that's as good,
For so't be out, no matter which way it comes,
If I can dye with a fillip, or depart
At hot-cockles, What's that to any man?
If there be so much death that serves my turn there.
Every one knows the state of his own body,
No Carrion kills a Kite, but then agen
There's Cheese will choak a Daw; time I were dead I'faith,
If I knew which way without hurt or danger.
I am a Maiden-Knight, and cannot look
Upon a naked weapon with any modesty,
Else 'twould go hard with me, and to complain
To Sir _Perfidious_ the old Knight agen,
Were to be more abus'd; perhaps he would beat me well,
But ne'er believe me.

_Enter_ Cuningame.

And few Men dye o' beating, that were lost too:
Oh, here's my friend, I'll make my moan to him.

_Cun._ I cannot tear her memory from my heart,
That treads mine down, was ever man so fool'd
That profest wit?

_Sir Greg._ O _Cuningame_?

_Cun._ Sir _Gregory_?
The choice, the Victor, the Towns happy Man?

_Sir Greg._ 'Snigs, What do'st mean? come I to thee for
comfort, and do'st abuse me too?

_Cun._ Abuse you? How Sir?
With justifying your fortune, and your joyes?

_Sir Greg._ Pray hold your hand, Sir, I've been bob'd enough,
You come with a new way now; strike me merrily,
But when a man's sore beaten o' both sides already,
Then the least tap in jest goes to the guts on him;
Wilt ha the truth? I'm made the rankest ass
That e'er was born to Lordships.

_Cun._ What? No Sir?

_Sir Greg._ I had not thought my body could a yielded
All those foul scurvie names that she has call'd me,
I wonder whence she fetcht 'em?

_Cun._ Is this credible?

_Sir Greg._ She pin'd this Scarf upon me afore her Unckle,
But his back turn'd, she curst me so for wearing on't,
The very brawn of mine arme has ak'd ever since,
Yet in a manner forc't me to wear't still,
But hop't I should not long; if good luck serve
I should meet one that has more wit and worth
Should take it from me, 'twas but lent to me,
And sent to him for a token.

_Cun._ I conceit it, I know the Man
That lies in wait for't, part with't by all means,
In any case, you are way-laid about it.

_Sir Greg._ How Sir? way-laid?

_Cun._ Pox of a Scarf, say I,
I prize my friends life 'bove a million on 'em,
You shall be rul'd, Sir, I know more than you.

_Sir Greg._ If you know more than I, let me be rid on't,
'Lass, 'tis not for my wearing, so she told me.

_Cun._ No, no, give me't, the knave shall miss his purpose,
And you shall live.

_Sir Greg._ I would, as long as I could, Sir.

_Cun._ No more replyes, you shall, I'll prevent this,
_Pompey_ shall march without it.

_Sir Greg._ What, is't he?
My Man that was?

_Cun._ Call him your deadly Enemy;
You give him too fair a name, you deal too nobly,
He bears a bloody mind, a cruel foe, Sir,
I care not if he heard me.

_Sir Greg._ But, Do you hear, Sir?
Can't sound with reason she should affect him?

_Cun._ Do you talk of reason? I never thought to have heard
Such a word come from you; reason in love?
Would you give that, no Doctor could e'er give?
Has not a Deputy married his Cook-maid?
An Aldermans Widow, one that was her turn-broach?
Nay, Has not a great Lady brought her Stable
Into her Chamber: lay with her Horse-keeper?

_Sir Greg._ Did ever love play such Jades tricks, Sir?

_Cun._ Oh thousands, thousands: Beware a sturdy Clown e're
while you live, Sir;
'Tis like a huswifery in most Shires about us;
You shall ha' Farmers Widows wed thin Gentlemen,
Much like your self, but put'em to no stress;
What work can they do, with small trap-stick legs?
They keep Clowns to stop gaps, and drive in pegs,
A drudgery fit for Hindes, e'en back agen, Sir,
Your're safest at returning.

_Sir Greg._ Think you so, Sir?

_Cun._ But, How came this Clown to be call'd _Pompey_ first?

_Sir Greg._ Push, one good-man _Cæsar_, a Pump-maker kersen'd him;
_Pompey_ he writes himself, but his right name's _Pumpey_,
And stunk too when I had him, now he's crank.

_Cun._ I'm glad I know so much to quell his pride, Sir,
Walk you still that way, I'll make use of this,
To resolve all my doubts, and place this favor
On some new Mistriss, only for a try,
And if it meet my thoughts, I'll swear 'tis I. [_Exit._

_Sir Greg._ Is _Pompey_ grown so malepert? so frampel?
The onely cutter about Ladies honors?

_Enter Old Knight._

And his blade soonest out?

_O. K._ Now, What's the news, Sir?

_Sir Gre._ I dare not say but good; oh excellent good, Sir.

_O. K._ I hope now you're resolv'd she loves you, Knight?

_Sir Gr._ Cuds me, What else Sir? that's not to do now.

_O. K._ You would not think how desperately you anger'd me,
When you bely'd her goodness; oh you vext me,
Even to a Palsey.

_Sir Greg._ What a thing was that Sir?

_Enter_ Neece.

_Neece._ 'Tis, that 'tis; as I have hope of sweetness, the
Scarfe's gone;
Worthy wise friend, I doat upon thy cunning,
We two shall be well matcht, our Issue-male, sure
Will be born Counsellors; is't possible?
Thou shalt have another token out of hand for't;
Nay, since the way's found, pitty thou shouldst want, y'faith,
O my best joy, and dearest.

_O. K._ Well said, Neece,
So violent 'fore your Uncle? What will you do
In secret then?

_Sir Greg._ Marry call me slave, and rascal.

_Neece._ Your Scarfe--the Scarfe I gave you--

_O. K._ Mass that's true Neece,
I ne'er thought upon that; the Scarfe she gave you--Sir?
What dumb? No answer from you? the Scarfe?

_Sir Greg._ I was way-laid about it, my life threatned;
Life's life, Scarfe's but a Scarfe, and so I parted from't.

_Neece._ Unfortunate woman! my first favor too?

_O. K._ Will you be still an ass? no reconcilement
'Twixt you and wit? Are you so far fallen out,
You'l never come together? I tell you true,
I'm very lowsily asham'd on you,
That's the worst shame that can be;
Thus bayting on him: now his heart's hook't in,
I'll make him, e'er I ha' done, take her with nothing,
I love a man that lives by his wits alife;
Nay leave, sweet Neece, 'tis but a Scarfe, let it go.

_Neece._ The going of it never grieves me, Sir.
It is the manner, the manner--

_Sir Greg._ O dissembling Marmaset! If I durst speak,
Or could be believ'd when I speak,
What a tale could I tell, to make hair stand upright now!

_Neece._ Nay, Sir, at your request you shall perceive, Uncle,
With what renewing love I forgive this:
Here's a fair Diamond, Sir, I'll try how long
You can keep that.

_Sir Greg._ Not very long, you know't too,
Like a cunning witch as you are.

_Neece._ Y'are best let him ha' that too.

_Sir Greg._ So I were, I think, there were no living else,
I thank you, as you have handled the matter.

_O. K._ Why this is musical now, and Tuesday next
Shall tune your Instruments, that's the day set.

_Neece._ A match, good Uncle.

_O. K._ Sir, you hear me too?

_Sir Greg._ Oh very well, I'm for you.

_Neece._ What e'er you hear, you know my mind.

[_Exeunt Old Knight and Neece._

_Sir Gre._ I, a ---- on't, too well, if I do not wonder how we
two shall come together, I'm a Bear whelp? he talks of Tuesday
next, as familiarly, as if we lov'd one another, but 'tis as
unlikely to me, as 'twas seven year before I saw her; I shall
try his cunning, it may be he has a way was never yet thought
on, and it had need to be such a one, for all that I can think
on will never do't; I look to have this Diamond taken from me
very speedily, therefore I'll take it off o' my finger, for if
it be seen, I shall be way-laid for that too. [_Exit._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter Old Knight, and Witty-pate._

_O. K._ Oh torture! torture! thou carriest a sting i'thy tail,
Thou never brought'st good news i'thy life yet,
And that's an ill quality, leave it when thou wilt.

_Witty._ Why you receive a blessing the wrong way, Sir,
Call you not this good newes? to save at once Sir
Your credit and your kinsmans life together;
Would it not vex your peace, and gaule your worth?
T'have one of your name hang'd?

_O. K._ Peace, no such words, boy.

_Wit._ Be thankful for the blessing of prevention then.

_O. K._ Le' me see, there was none hang'd out of our house
since _Brute_,
I ha' search't both _Stow_, and _Hollinshead_.

_Wit._ O Sir.

_O. K._ I'll see what _Polychronicon_ sayes anon too.

_Wit._ 'Twas a miraculous fortune that I heard on't.

_O. K._ I would thou'dst never heard on't.

_Wit._ That's true too,
So it had ne'er been done; to see the luck on't,
He was ev'n brought to Justice _Aurums_ threshold,
There had flew'n forth a _Mittimus_ straight for _Newgate_;
And note the fortune too, Sessions a Thursday,
Jury cull'd out a Friday, Judgment a Saturday,
Dungeon a Sunday, Tyburne a Munday,
Miseries quotidian ague, when't begins once,
Every day pulls him, till he pull his last.

_O. K._ No more, I say, 'tis an ill theam: where left you him?

_Wit._ He's i'th' Constables hands below i'th' Hall, Sir,
Poor Gentleman, and his accuser with him.

_O. K._ What's he?

_Wit._ A Judges Son 'tis thought, so much the worse too,
He'l hang his enemy, an't shall cost him nothing,
That's a great priviledge.

_O. K._ Within there?

_Enter_ Servant.

_Ser._ Sir?

_O. K._ Call up the folks i'th' Hall. I had such hope on him,
For a Scholar too, a thing thou ne'er wast fit for
Therefore erected all my joyes in him;
Got a Welch Benefice in reversion for him,
Dean of _Cardigan_, has his grace already,
He can marry and bury, yet ne'er a hair on's face;

_Enter_ Credulous, _Sir_ Ruinous (_as a_ Constable,) _and_
Lady Gentry (_as a Man_.)

Like a French Vicar, and, Does he bring such fruits to Town with him?
A Thief at his first lighting? Oh good den to you.

_Wit._ Nay, sweet Sir, you'r so vext now, you'l grieve him,
And hurt your self.

_O. K._ Away, I'll hear no counsel;
Come you but once in seven year to your Uncle,
And at that time must you be brought home too?
And by a Constable?

_Wit._ Oh speak low, Sir,
Remember your own credit, you profess
You love a Man o'wit, begin at home, Sir,
Express it i'your self.

_Lady._ Nay, Master Constable,
Shew your self a wise man, 'gainst your nature too.

_Ruin._ Sir, no Dish-porridgment, we have brought home
As good men as ye.

_O. K._ Out, a _North-Brittain_ Constable, that tongue
Will publish all, it speaks so broad already;
Are you the Gentleman.

_Lady._ The unfortunate one, Sir,
That fell into the power of merciless Thieves,
Whereof this fellow, whom I'd call your kinsman,
As little as I could (for the fair reverence
I owe to fame and years) was the prime villain.

_O.K._ A wicked prime.

_Wit._ Nay, not so loud, sweet father.

_Lad._ The rest are fled, but I shall meet with 'em,
Hang one of 'em I will certain, I ha' swore it,
And 'twas my luck to light upon this first.

_O.K._ A _Cambridge_ man for this? these your degrees, Sir?
Nine years at University for this fellowship?

_Wit._ Take your voice lower, dear Sir.

_O.K._ What's your loss, Sir?

_Lady._ That which offends me to repeat, the Money's whole, Sir,
'Tis i'th' Constables hands there, a seal'd hundred,
But I will not receive it.

_O.K._ No? Not the Money, Sir,
Having confest 'tis all?

_Lady._ 'Tis all the Money, Sir,
But 'tis not all I lost, for when they bound me,
They took a Diamond hung at my shirt string,
Which fear of life made me forget to hide;
It being the sparkling witness of a Contract,
'Twixt a great Lawyers daughter and my self.

_Wit._ I told you what he was; What does the Diamond
Concern my Cozen, Sir?

_Lady._ No more did the Money,
But he shall answer all now.

_Wit._ There's your conscience,
It shewes from whence you sprung.

_Lady._ Sprung? I had leapt a Thief,
Had I leapt some of your alliance.

_Wit._ Slave!

_Lady._ You prevent me still.

_O.K._ 'Slid, Son, Are you mad?

_Lady._ Come, come, I'll take a legal course.

_O.K._ Will you undo us all? What's your demand, Sir?
Now we're in's danger too.

_Lady._ A hundred Mark, Sir,
I will not bait a doit.

_Witty._ A hundred Rascals.

_Lady._ Sir, find 'em out in your own blood, and take 'em.

_Wit._ Go take your course, follow the Law, and spare not.

_O. K._ Does fury make you drunk? know you what you say?

_Wit._ A hundred dogs dungs, do your worst.

_O. K._ You do I'm sure; Whose loud now?

_Wit._ What his own asking?

_O. K._ Not in such a case?

_Wit._ You shall have but threescore pound; spite a your teeth,
I'll see you hang'd first.

_O. K._ And what's seven pound more man?
That all this coyle's about? stay, I say, he shall ha't.

_Wit._ It is your own, you may do what you please with it;
Pardon my zeal, I would ha' sav'd you money;
Give him all his own asking?

_O. K._ What's that to you, Sir?
Be sparing of your own, teach me to pinch
In such a case as this? go, go, live by your wits, go.

_Wit._ I practise all I can.

_O. K._ Follow you me, Sir,
And, Master Constable, come from the knave,
And be a witness of a full recompence.

_Wit._ Pray stop the Constables mouth, what ere you do Sir.

_O. K._ Yet agen? as if I meant not to do that my self,
Without your counsel? As for you, precious kinsman,
Your first years fruits in _Wales_ shall go to rack for this,
You lie not in my house, I'll pack you out,
And pay for your lodging rather.

[_Exeunt_ Knight, Ruin, _and_ Lady.

_Witty._ Oh fie Cozen,
These are ill courses, you a Scholar too?

_Cred._ I was drawn into't most unfortunately,
By filthy deboist company.

_Wit._ I, I, I.
'Tis even the spoil of all our youth in _England_.
What were they Gentlemen?

_Cred._ Faith so like some on 'em,
They were ev'n the worse agen.

_Wit._ Hum.

_Cred._ Great Tobacco [swivers],
They would go near to rob with a pipe in their mouths.

_Wit._ What, no?

_Cred._ Faith leave it Cozen, because my Rascals use it.

_Wit._ So they do meat and drink, must worthy Gentlemen
Refrain their food for that? an honest man
May eat of the same Pig some Parson dines with,
A Lawyer and a fool feed of one Woodcock,
Yet one ne'er the simpler, t'other ne'er the wiser;
'Tis not meat, drink, or smoak, dish, cup, or pipe,
Co-operates to the making of a Knave,
'Tis the condition makes a slave, a slave,
There's _London_ Philosophy for you; I tell you Cozen,
You cannot be too cautelous, nice, or dainty,
In your society here, especially
When you come raw from the University,
Before the World has hard'ned you a little,
For as a butter'd loaf is a Scholars breakfast there,
So a poach't Scholar is a cheaters dinner here,
I ha' known seven of 'em supt up at a Meale.

_Cred._ Why a poacht Scholar?

_Wit._ 'Cause he powres himself forth,
And all his secrets, at the first acquaintance,
Never so crafty to be eaten i'th' shell,
But is outstript of all he has at first,
And goes down glib, he's swallowed with sharp wit,
Stead of Wine Vinegar.

_Cred._ I shall think, Cozen,
O' your poach't Scholar, while I live.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Serv._ Master _Credulous_,
Your Uncle wills you to forbear the House,
You must with me, I'm charg'd to see you plac'd
In some new lodging about Theeving Lane,
What the conceit's, I know not, but commands you
To be seen here no more, till you hear further.

_Cred._ Here's a strange welcome, Sir.

_Wit._ This is the World, Cozen;
When a Man's fame's once poyson'd, fare thee well Lad.

[_Exit_ Cred. _and_ Servant.

This is the happiest cheat I e'er claim'd share in,
It has a two-fold fortune, gets me coyne,
And puts him out of grace, that stood between me,
My fathers _Cambridge_ Jewel, much suspected
To be his Heir, now there's a bar in's hopes.

_Enter_ Ruinous, _and_ Lady Gentry.

_Ruin._ It chinks, make haste.

_Lady._ The _Goat at Smithfield Pens_.

_Enter_ Cunningame.

_Wit._ Zo, zo, zufficient. Master _Cuningame_?
I never have ill luck when I meet a wit.

_Cun._ A Wit's better to meet, than to follow then,
For I ha' none so good I can commend yet,
But commonly men unfortunate to themselves,
Are luckiest to their friends, and so may I be.

_Wit._ I run o'er so much worth, going but in haste from you,
All my deliberate friendship cannot equal.

_Cun._ 'Tis but to shew, that you can place sometimes,

_Enter_ Mirabell.

Your modesty a top of all your virtues. [_Exit_ Wit.
This Gentleman may pleasure me yet agen;
I am so haunted with this broad-brim'd hat,
Of the last progress block, with the young hat-band,
Made for a sucking Devil of two years old,
I know not where to turn my self.

_Mir._ Sir?

_Cun._ More torture?

_Mir._ 'Tis rumor'd that you love me.

_Cun._ A my troth Gentlewoman,
Rumor's as false a knave as ever pist then,
Pray tell him so from me; I cannot fain
With a sweet Gentlewoman, I must deal down right.

_Mir._ I heard, though you dissembled with my Aunt, Sir,
And that makes me more confident.

_Cun._ There's no falshood,
But payes us our own some way, I confess
I Fain'd with her, 'twas for a weightier purpose,
But not with thee, I swear.

_Mir._ Nor I with you then,
Although my Aunt enjoyn'd me to dissemble,
To right her splene, I love you faithfully.

_Cun._ Light, this is worse than 'twas.

_Mir._ I find such worth in you,
I cannot, nay I dare not dally with you,
For fear the flame consume me.

_Cun._ Here's fresh trouble,
This drives me to my conscience, for 'tis foul
To injure one that deals directly with me.

_Mir._ I crave but such a truth from your love, Sir,
As mine brings you, and that's proportionable.

_Cun._ A good Geometrician, 'shrew my heart;
Why are you out o'your wits, pretty plump Gentlewoman,
You talk so desperately? 'tis a great happiness,
Love has made one on's wiser than another,
We should be both cast away else;
Yet I love gratitude, I must requite you,
I shall be sick else, but to give you me,
A thing you must not take, if you mean to live,
For a' my troth I hardly can my self;
No wise Physitian will prescribe me for you.
Alass, your state is weak, you had need of Cordials,
Some rich Electuary, made of a Son an Heir,
An elder brother, in a Cullisse, whole,
'Tmust be some wealthy _Gregory_, boyl'd to a Jelly,
That must restore you to the state of new Gowns,
French Ruffs, and mutable head-tires.

_Mir._ But, Where is he, Sir?
One that's so rich will ne'er wed me with nothing.

_Cun._ Then see thy Conscience, and thy wit together,
Would'st thou have me then, that has nothing neither?
What say you to _Fop Gregory_ the first, yonder?
Will you acknowledge your time amply recompenc'd?
Full satisfaction upon loves record?
Without any more suit, if I combine you?

_Mir._ Yes, by this honest kiss.

_Cun._ You're a wise Clyent,
To pay your fee before-hand, but all do so,
You know the worst already, that's the best too.

_Mir._ I know he's a fool.

_Cun._ You'r shrewdly hurt then;
This is your comfort, your great wisest Women
Pick their first Husband still out of that house,
And some will have 'em to chuse, if they bury twenty.

_Mir._ I'm of their minds, that like him for a [first] Husband,
To run youths race with [him], 'tis very pleasant,
But when I'm old, I'd alwayes wish for a wiser.

_Cun._ You may have me by that time:
For this first business,
Rest upon my performance.

_Mir._ With all thankfulness.

_Cun._ I have a project you must aid me in too.

_Mir._ You bind me to all lawful action, Sir.

_Cun._ Pray wear this Scarf about you.

_Mir._ I conjecture now--

_Cun._ There's a Court Principle for't, one office must help another;
As for example, for your cast o' Manchits out o'th' Pantry,
I'll allow you a Goose out o'th' Kitchin.

_Mir._ 'Tis very sociably done, Sir, farewel performance,
I shall be bold to call you so.

_Cun._ Do, sweet confidence,

_Enter Sir_ Gregory.

If I can match my two broad brim'd hats;
'Tis he, I know the Maggot by his head;
Now shall I learn newes of him, my precious chief.

_Sir Greg._ I have been seeking for you i'th' bowling-Green,
Enquir'd at _Nettletons_, and _Anthonies_ Ordinary,
T'ha's vext me to the heart, look, I've a Diamond here,
And it cannot find a Master.

_Cun._ No? That's hard y'faith.

_Sir Greg._ It does belong to some body, a ---- on him,
I would he had it, do's but trouble me,
And she that sent it, is so waspish too,
There's no returning to her till't be gone.

_Cun._ Oh, ho, ah sirrah, are you come?

_Sir Greg._ What's that friend?

_Cun._ Do you note that corner sparkle?

_Sir Greg._ Which? which? which Sir?

_Cun._ At the West end o'th' Coller.

_Sir Greg._ Oh I see't now.

_Cun._ 'Tis an apparent mark; this is the stone, Sir,
That so much blood is threatned to be shed for.

_Sir Greg._ I pray.

_Cun._ A tun at least.

_Sir Greg._ They must not find't i'me then, they must
Goe where 'tis to be had.

_Cun._ 'Tis well it came to my hands first, Sir _Gregory_,
I know where this must go.

_Sir Greg._ Am I discharg'd on't?

_Cun._ My life for yours now. [_Draws._

_Sir Greg._ What now?

_Cun._ 'Tis discretion, Sir,
I'll stand upon my Guard all the while I ha't.

_Sir Greg._ 'Troth thou tak'st too much danger on thee still,
To preserve me alive.

_Cun._ 'Tis a friends duty, Sir,
Nay, by a toy that I have late thought upon,
I'll u[n]dertake to get your Mistriss for you.

_Sir Greg._ Thou wilt not? Wilt?

_Cun._ Contract her by a trick, Sir,
When she least thinks on't.

_Sir Greg._ There's the right way to't,
For if she think on't once, shee'l never do't.

_Cun._ She does abuse you still then?

_Sir Greg._ A----damnably,
Every time worse than other; yet her Uncle
Thinks the day holds a Tuesday; say it did, Sir,
She's so familiarly us'd to call me Rascal,
She'll quite forget to wed me by my own name,
And then that Marriage cannot hold in Law, you know.

_Cun._ Will you leave all to me?

_Sir Greg._ Who should I leave it to?

_Cun._ 'Tis our luck to love Neeces; I love a Neece too.

_Sir Greg._ I would you did y'faith.

_Cun._ But mine's a kind wretch.

_Sir Greg._ I marry Sir, I would mine were so too.

_Cun._ No rascal comes in her mouth.

_Sir Greg._ Troth, and mine has little else in hers.

_Cun._ Mine sends me tokens,
All the World knows not on.

_Sir Greg._ Mine gives me tokens too, very fine tokens,
But I dare not wear 'em.

_Cun._ Mine's kind in secret.

_Sir Greg._ And there mine's a hell-cat.

_Cun._ We have a day set too.

_Sir Greg._ 'Slid, so have we man,
But there's no sign of ever coming together.

_Cun._ I'll tell thee who 'tis, the old womans Neece.

_Sir Greg._ Is't she?

_Cun._ I would your luck had been no worse for mildness;
But mum, no more words on't to your Lady.

_Sir Greg._ Foh!

_Cun._ No blabbing, as you love me.

_Sir Greg._ None of our blood
Were ever bablers.

_Cun._ Prethee convey this Letter to her,
But at any hand let not your Mistriss see't.

_Sir Greg._ Yet agen Sir?

_Cun._ There's a Jewel in't,
The very art would make her doat upon't.

_Sir Greg._ Say you so?
And she shall see't for that trick only.

_Cun._ Remember but your Mistriss, and all's well.

_Sir Greg._ Nay, if I do not, hang me. [_Exit._

_Cun._ I believe you;
This is the onely way to return a token,
I know he will do't now, 'cause he's charg'd to'th' contrary.
He's the nearest kin to a Woman, of a thing
Made without substance, that a man can find agen,
Some Petticoat begot him, I'll be whipt else,
Engendring with an old pair of paund hose,
Lying in some hot chamber o'er the Kitchin:
Very steame bred him,
He never came where _Rem in Re_ e'er grew;
The generation of a hundred such
Cannot make a man stand in a white sheet,
For 'tis no act in Law, nor can a Constable
Pick out a bawdy business for _Bridewell_ in't;

_Enter_ Clown (_as a Gallant_.)

A lamentable case, he's got with a Mans Urine, like a _Mandrake_.
How now? hah? What prodigious bravery's this?
A most preposterous Gallant, the Doublet sits
As if it mock't the breeches.

_Clow._ Save you, Sir.

_Cun._ H'as put his tongue in the fine suit of words too.

_Clow._ How does the party?

_Cun._ Takes me for a Scrivener. Which of the parties?

_Clow._ Hum, simplicity betide thee--
I would fain hear of the party; I would be loath to go
Farther with her; honor is not a thing to be dallied withall,
No more is reputation, no nor fame, I take it, I must not
Have her wrong'd when I'm abroad; my party is not
To be compell'd with any party in an oblique way;
'Tis very dangerous to deal with Women;
May prove a Lady too, but shall be nameless,
I'll bite my tongue out, e'er it prove a Traitor.

_Cun._ Upon my life I know her.

_Clow._ Not by me,
Know what you can, talk a whole day with me,
Y'are ne'er the wiser, she comes not from these lips.

_Cun._ The old Knights Neece.

_Clow._ 'Slid he has got her, pox of his heart that told him,
Can nothing be kept secret? let me entreat you
To use her name as little as you can, though.

_Cun._ 'Twill be small pleasure, Sir, to use her name.

_Clow._ I had intelligence in my solemn walks,
'Twixt _Paddington_ and _Pancridge_, of a Scarfe,
Sent for a token, and a Jewel follow'd,
But I acknowledge not the receipt of any,
How e'er 'tis carried, believe me, Sir,
Upon my reputation I receiv'd none.

_Cun._ What, neither Scarfe nor Jewel?

_Clow._ 'Twould be seen
Some where about me, you may well think that,
I have an arme for a Scarfe, as others have,
An Ear, to hang a Jewel too, and that's more
Then some men have, my betters a great deal,
I must have restitution, where e'er it lights.

_Cun._ And reason good.

_Clow._ For all these tokens, Sir,
Pass i' my name.

_Cun._ It cannot otherwise be.

_Clow._ Sent to a worthy friend.

_Cun._ I, that's to thee.

_Clow._ I'm wrong'd under that title.

_Cun._ I dare sware thou art,
'Tis nothing but _Sir Gregories_ circumvention,
His envious spite, when thou'rt at _Paddington_,
He meets the gifts at _Pancridge_.

_Clow._ Ah false Knight?
False both to honor, and the Law of Arms?

_Cun._ What wilt thou say if I be reveng'd for thee?
Thou sit as Witness?

_Clow._ I should laugh in state then.

_Cun._ I'll fob him, here's my hand.

_Clow._ I shall be as glad as any Man alive, to see him well
fob'd, Sir; but now you talk of fobbing, I wonder the Lady
sends not for me according to promise? I ha' kept out o' Town
these two dayes, a purpose to be sent for; I am almost starv'd
with walking.

_Cun._ Walking gets men a stomach.

_Clow._ 'Tis most true, Sir, I may speak it by experience, for
I ha' got a stomach six times, and lost it agen, as often as a
traveller from _Chelsy_ shall lose the sight of _Pauls_, and
get it agen.

_Cun._ Go to her, Man.

_Clow._ Not for a Million, enfringe my oath? there's a toy
call'd a Vow, has past between us, a poor trifle, Sir; Pray do
me the part and office of a Gentleman, if you chance to meet a
Footman by the way, in Orange tawny ribbands, running before an
empty Coach, with a Buzard i'th' Poop on't, direct him and his
horses toward the new River by _Islington_, there they shall
have me looking upon the Pipes, and whistling.

[_Exit_ Clow.

_Cun._ A very good note; this love makes us all Monkeyes, But
to my work: 'Scarfe first? and now a Diamond? these should be
sure signs of her affections truth; Yet I'll go forward with my
surer proof: [_Exit._

_Enter_ Neece, _and Sir_ Gregory.

_Neece._ Is't possible?

_Sir Greg._ Nay, here's his Letter too, there's a fine Jewel in't,
Therefore I brought it to you.

_Neece._ You tedious Mongril! Is't not enough
To grace thee, to receive this from thy hand,
A thing which makes me almost sick to do,
But you must talk too?

_Sir Greg._ I ha' done.

_Neece._ Fall back,
Yet backer, backer yet, you unmannerly puppy,
Do you not see I'm going about to read it?

_Sir Greg._ Nay, these are golden dayes, now I stay by't,
She was wont not to endure me in her sight at all,
The World mends, I see that.

_Neece._ What an ambiguous Superscription's here!
_To the best of Neeces._ Why that title may be mine,
And more than her's:
Sure I much wrong the neatness of his art;
'Tis certain sent to me, and to requite
My cunning in the carriage of my Tokens,
Us'd the same _Fop_ for his.

_Sir Greg._ She nodded now to me, 'twill come in time.

_Neece._ What's here? an entire _Rubye_, cut into a heart,
And this the word, _Istud Amoris opus_?

_Sir Greg._ Yes, yes, I have heard him say, that love is
the best stone-cutter.

_Neece._ Why thou sawcy issue of some travelling Sow-gelder,
What makes love in thy mouth? Is it a thing
That ever will concern thee? I do wonder
How thou dar'st think on't! hast thou ever hope
To come i' the same roome where lovers are;
And scape unbrain'd with one of their velvet slippers?

_Sir Greg._ Love tricks break out I see, and you talk of slippers once,
'Tis not far off to bed time.

_Neece._ Is it possible thou canst laugh yet?
I would ha' undertook to ha' kill'd a spider
With less venome far, than I have spit at thee.

_Sir Greg._ You must conceive,
A Knight's another manner a piece of flesh.

_Neece._ Back, Owles-face.

_Within. O. K._ Do, do.

_Neece._ 'Tis my Unckles voice, that.
Why keep you so far off, _Sir Gregory_?
Are you afraid, Sir, to come near your Mistriss?

_Sir Greg._ Is the proud heart come down? I lookt for this still.

_Neece._ He comes not this way yet: Away, you dog-whelp,
Would you offer to come near me, though I said so?
I'll make you understand my mind in time;
[Your running] greedily, like a hound to his breakfast,
That chops in head and all to beguile his fellows;
I'm to be eaten, Sir, with Grace and leisure,
Behaviour and discourse, things that ne'er trouble you;
After I have pelted you sufficiently,
I tro you will learn more manners.

_Sir Greg._ I'm wondring still when we two shall come together?
Tuesday's at hand, but I'm as far off, as I was at first, I swear.

_Enter_ Gardianess.

_Gard._ Now _Cuningame_, I'll be reveng'd at large:
Lady, what was but all this while suspition,
Is truth, full blown now, my Neece wears your Scarfe.

_Neece._ Hah?

_Gard._ Do but follow me, I'll place you instantly
Where you shall see her courted by _Cuningame_.

_Neece._ I go with greediness; we long for things
That break our hearts sometimes, there's pleasures misery,

[_Exeunt_ Neece _and_ Gard.

_Sir Greg._ Where are those gad-flies going? to some Junket now;
That some old _bumble-bee_ toles the young one forth
To sweet meats after kind, let 'em look to't,
The thing you wot on be not mist or gone,
I bring a Maiden-head, and I look for one.
_Which is only a Puppet so drest._ [_Exit._

_Enter_ Cunningame (_in discourse with a Mask't Gentlewoman_
_in a broad hat, and scarf'd_,) _Neece at another door._

_Cun._ Yes, yes.

_Neece._ Too manifest now, the Scarfe and all.

_Cun._ It cannot be, you're such a fearful soul.

_Neece._ I'll give her cause of fear e'er I part from her.